A Slight Miscommunication
by whyibelieveitsafish
Summary: What if Magnus and Alec's conversation on the rooftop at the end of City of Heavenly Fire had gone a little differently? In which everybody is a little bit foolish, and nobody quite says what they mean. Featuring all the major characters. May contain spoilers for the Infernal Devices, as well as all the Mortal Instruments books.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, guys, this is just something that's been bouncing around in my head for a few weeks. Don't worry, it's going to get a little lighter from here!**

**All characters belong to Cassandra Clare, of course, as does all the dialogue in the first half of this scene. Enjoy!**

The winter air was cold and crisp; Magnus could see his breath in front of him every time he exhaled, a white cloud billowing about him as he moved. The rooftops of Idris reeled away towards the dusky horizon, and it was almost perfectly quiet. How strange, he thought, that a mere week ago, all this had been on the brink of destruction. This—and absolutely everything else. The whole world had almost gone up in smoke, but you wouldn't think it, to look at it now. It was all so... peaceful.

And yet, Magnus' heart was thudding against his ribs as it had not done in years. He was almost surprised to think that no one else could hear it: not the subdued Shadowhunters in the streets below, not the Lightwoods in the house beneath his feet. Not Alec, sitting on the rooftop just a few feet away, staring pensively downwards, unaware of Magnus' presence.

Magnus knew that look, knew it so well. It was anger, and guilt and helplessness, all rolled into one thoughtful look. He took a moment to take him in before he spoke; a moment to absorb every last detail, just in case. Just in case he never had the chance again.

"You couldn't have done anything. Don't punish yourself."

Alec started very slightly, but did not turn round. Magnus walked forwards and stood just behind him, taking a careful breath as he did so, and trying to ignore the thudding in his ears.

_Don't say no, please don't let him say no..._

"How did you get up here?" Alec asked.

Magnus declined to answer that. A true Warlock never reveals his secrets, after all.

He sat down beside Alec, feeling the boy's eyes on him, and said nothing, waiting.

"I should have said something," Alec said, after a moment. "I voted against sending her away."

"I know," Magnus said. "You and about ten other people. It was overwhelmingly in favour. People get scared, and they take it out on anyone they think is different. It's the same cycle I've seen a thousand times."

"It makes me feel so useless."

"You're anything but useless." Magnus tipped his head back, his eyes searching the sky for the words that could express everything he needed to say. "You saved my life."

"In Edom?" Alec sounded a little bemused. "I helped, but really—you saved your own life."

"Not just in Edom. I.. I'm almost four hundred years old, Alexander. Warlocks, as they get older, they start to calcify. They stop being able to feel things. To care, to be excited or surprised. I always told myself that would never happen to me. That I'd try to be like Peter Pan, never grow up, always retain a sense of wonder. Always fall in love, be surprised, be open to being hurt as much as I was open to being happy. But over the last twenty years or so I've felt it creeping up on me anyway. There was nobody before you for a long time. Nobody I loved. No one who surprised me or took my breath away. Until you walked into that party, I was starting to think I'd never feel anything that strongly again."

Alec looked down; a cloud of white streamed steadily from his nose as he breathed out. "What are you saying?" He asked, his voice trembling a little. "That you want to get back together?"

"If you want to," Magnus said, his voice so uncertain that he hardly recognised it as his own. "If you..."

He trailed off. Alec was looking at him with a strange, fixed expression, and Magnus found, for the first time, that he couldn't read it at all.

"I don't know," Alec said.

Magnus' felt what hope he had held stutter, and almost flicker out. "Well, I can understand that you—I wasn't very kind to you."

_To put it mildly_, whispered a nasty little voice in his head. Magnus ignored it. _He hasn't said no, he hasn't said no..._

"No," Alec said, bluntly. "You weren't, but I guess it's hard to break up with someone kindly." He bit his lip, clearly thinking, and Magnus sat silently, desperately afraid that he might say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing—and ruin everything. "The thing is—I'm sorry about what I did. It was wrong—terribly wrong. But I did it because I was unhappy. You knew I was. I wouldn't—It was—I can't go through my whole life feeling like that, Magnus. I can't spend my whole life unhappy. You understand, don't you?"

The words went through him like a dull electric shock. _I can't spend my whole life unhappy._

_I made him unhappy._ Magnus realised. _I can't fix that—I made him unhappy and he's going to walk away..._

Alec was looking at him, wide eyed, his expression pleading. Magnus felt like he had something lodged in his throat. With an effort he was sure must be obvious, he schooled his expression into one of acceptance and said, as lightly as he could, "I understand. Of course I understand. You only have one life, after all."

His voice sounded strained; he realised, with growing horror, that the pain in his throat might just be the beginnings of tears. _Oh no you don't._ He told himself, grimly. _You've still got some pride. _

Alec looked away from him, out across the rooftops again.

"I love you," Magnus said, unable to stop himself, just because he had to say it once more—just one last time, before it was over, before even the last flickers of hope died away.

Alec shook his head."Don't," He said—and he sounded strained himself. "Don't. It isn't fair. I can't... You can't..."

_I can't live the rest of my life unhappy._

"I understand." Magnus repeated—though he didn't, not really, not at all. _We were happy_, he wanted to say. _I thought we were happy. Until Camille came along, I know were happy. I thought I could fix it... _

_Maybe _you_ were happy_, whispered the nasty voice, again. _Maybe you imagined he was happy too._ _Maybe you just saw what you wanted to see... _

"You do?" Alec sounded resigned, and weary. It had been such a long, hard battle, Magnus thought. They had all lost so much, and sacrificed so much. He thought of Simon Lewis, with a guilt he could hardly conceal from himself, and of Clary, and Isabelle, probably hiding herself away somewhere in the house below...

Magnus wanted to reach out, to say he was sorry, to promise to be better, if he could just have one more chance, just one more try...

"I do." He said. He swallowed the sharp lump in his throat away, and got to his feet, feeling the awkward square shape of the notebook in his pocket as he did so.

Hope flared again in his chest—_Maybe if I just give it to him—maybe he'd change his mind... Maybe if I just..._

He dismissed it, as quickly as it arose. _It'll just make it harder. It'll just make him unhappy._

"Well," He said—and then stopped. He had no idea what to say. What _could _he say? There were no words for what he felt, what they had gone through, or for what he was losing. _I love you. I love you so much. _"I suppose... Once you get back to New York... I suppose I'll see you, from time to time."

Alec nodded. He didn't look up. Magnus could see his jaw was clenched, and his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the roof, but it was clear his mind was made up. "Goodbye, Magnus." He said, quietly.

Magnus opened his mouth to say something—anything—that might postpone what was about to happen, but nothing came to mind. He closed his eyes, and nodded.

"Goodbye, Alexander."

The lump was back as he turned his back on Alec, and walked away, his heart still thudding pitifully in his chest.

Alec wasn't sure how long he sat on the rooftop after Magnus left. He felt numb, and cold, and empty. It was over. It was really, truly over, and he had been the one to end it.

Part of him already regretted it. Hell, all of him regretted it—but part of him wanted to jump up and run after Magnus, to throw his arms around him the way he had in Edom and tell him it was all a mistake, that he was sorry, that he didn't care how little of Magnus' past he knew—he would take whatever he could get, and never think to be unhappy with it again.

But a bigger part of him—a _wiser_ part of him—knew it could not work. If Magnus was not willing to share now...

Somewhere inside the numbness, a dull anger flickered. _After everything, after everything we went through, he still won't share a thing. I would have given up everything—and he won't even tell me where he was born. _

He wasn't being fair—he knew he wasn't being fair—but it hurt, and he didn't think it would ever stop hurting. He had lost Magnus, for good this time.

_He might change his mind... He might..._

Alec shook his head. No, he couldn't let himself hope like that.

It would only make it hurt worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Magnus called Catarina the moment he arrived back in New York.

"Well?" She inquired, her voice expectant, and almost laughing. "How did it go?"

Magnus flung himself back onto his sofa, earning him a yowl from Chairman Meow, who had never much appreciated Magnus' theatrics, particularly when they involved being sat on.

"Terribly," Magnus admitted. "He said no."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Magnus wondered vaguely if Catarina had abandoned it due to a sudden medical crisis, and had forgotten about Magnus all together. It wouldn't be unlike her.

"Oh, Magnus," She breathed, at last. "I'm sorry."

Magnus shrugged nonchalantly—then realised Catarina couldn't see him. "It's fine," He said, with as much casualness as he could muster. "I mean, I knew he might. It was a chance..."

"I don't understand." Catarina said. "He seemed so... well, whipped."

Magnus snorted. "Since when do you say 'whipped'? Not that I'm protesting. Modernity suits you, Catarina. You should try it more often."

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"Positive. You could get a smart phone and everything. A whole new lease of life."

"You know that's not what I mean, Magnus. I mean about Alec. Are you sure...?"

Magnus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sure. You should have heard him—he sounded so _final._ He said... He said I made him unhappy."

The words tasted bitter in his mouth—to say them out loud, even to Catarina, made them feel realer, and a thousand times more painful. He was glad Catarina wasn't there, so that he couldn't see the pitying expression she doubtlessly had on her face. Heartbreak was bad enough, but pity would probably be enough to finish him off.

Catarina didn't speak for a long time. Then, "I have to go. I finish my shift in an hour. I'll come over. Don't move."

"Not a problem." Magnus said, and hung up.

He had been on his own in the Warlock representatives house in Idris for three days after Alec had finished things between them, as his presence was required for the finalisation of the treaty between the Nephilim and the Fair Folk. Magnus hadn't been much help, he knew, but he'd been glad of the distraction. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself, now that he was back. Take clients? Watch reruns and day time television? Turn himself into an interesting and amusing lamp of some description?

No. Magnus admitted it to himself: he was going to mope, and think about Alec, and possibly have a drink. Or five—it wasn't like he was ever going to have anyone to share his varied assortment of liquors with ever again, except perhaps Catarina, who didn't really drink, and thoroughly disapproved of Magnus drinking alone in his apartment. Usually, _Magnus_ thoroughly disapproved of Magnus drinking alone in his apartment, but he did have to adapt to his circumstances.

With a wave, he summoned a bottle to his side, along with a glass, and various other ingredients that might be useful in the consumption of alcoholic beverages.

After all, Catarina had told him not to move. And she was a nurse. She _probably _knew best.

/

"I still can't believe it." Izzy said, for what felt like the thousandth time. "He wasn't willing to share... _anything_?"

Alec gave her a weary shrug. "If he was, I don't see why he wouldn't have told me. I told him that was all I wanted."

Isabelle shook her head. "I've got half a mind to go and kick his door in." She muttered, mutinously.

"_Don't!" _Alec insisted. "Don't do anything. It's fine. It's his choice. I have to accept it. And if I can accept it, then so can you, Isabelle."

Isabelle shot a desperate look across at Jace, who was rocking back in his chair, studying Alec meditatively. "Don't look at me," He said. "I'm not going to do anything."

"Good."

"No, _not_ good. We need a plan!" Izzy insisted. Alec rolled his eyes. It was difficult to feel too mad at her, considering everything that was going on. He knew that, at its root, Izzy's concern for his relationship with Magnus was partly a distraction from her own feelings about Simon. He wished that she could just admit what was wrong, and show how she felt for once, rather than bottling it all up and using her energy to meddle with other people instead. As far as Alec was concerned, Izzy needed to take a leaf out of Clary's book, and have a good cry. It certainly wasn't the Shadowhunter way—but Alec had to admit that he was more than a little tired of _the Shadowhunter way. _All it seemed to be doing at the moment was causing more harm.

"We don't need a plan. Please, Izzy, leave Magnus alone. Leave _me _alone. I just want to... I don't know. Get over him in peace?"

Izzy and Jace both raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Stop that," Alec muttered. "Put your eyebrows away, both of you."

"Fine," Izzy snapped, getting up from the table and shoving her chair under it with a clatter that Alec was sure was louder than necessary. "You don't want my help? Fine. I won't give it. But I _know _you'll regret this, Alec. I know you will."

And with that, she stomped out.

"I'm not going to regret it." Alec said to Jace, once he was sure she was out of earshot. "I wouldn't wish Izzy's help on my worst enemy."

Jace smiled, but his eyes were still distant, thoughtful. "I don't think that's what she meant, really." He said. "I think she meant Magnus. Are you sure you don't want to talk to him?"

Alec shook his head. "It will only make things worse. I can't be with him if he's like that, Jace, I can't. Obviously I want to—I wish I could, but..."

He shrugged helplessly. Jace sat forwards on his chair very suddenly, the feet slamming against the stone floor of the institute with a loud crack. "Well, quite frankly, I've never liked him, and you're too good for him, anyway. Forget about him."

"Neither of those things are true. And you of all people know it isn't that easy. But thanks, I guess."

Jace clapped him on the shoulder, getting to his feet. "No problem. And try not to wallow. Also, I'm removing all the wine from the premises. I've got enough on my plate without you staggering and weeping all over the place."

"I would never!"

Jace shot him a grin over his shoulder as he retreated from the room. "I'm going to the training room after I've checked on Clary. See you there?"

"I don't really feel like it."

"You don't feel like hitting something really hard with a stick?"

Alec considered this. "Well... I might be able to make it."

"You've got half an hour. Be there or else."

And with that, he was gone.

Alec got to his feet, and went to the window. He could see the streets spanning out below him, and the tiny people, who had no idea they were walking past an Institute; no idea that he was there at all. Magnus was out there somewhere, he knew—he had returned from New York just before they had. Alec could not help himself but hold onto the vague hope that Magnus might get in touch, somehow—to say he had changed his mind, that he was sorry. But in his heart of hearts, he knew it wouldn't happen. It was over. It was really, truly over.

And he hated it.


	3. Chapter 3

Jocelyn and Luke's wedding was nice, Alec thought. Nice, although he felt uncomfortable in his slightly too small suit, and he was very conscious of his parents' stilted—though ever so polite—conversation across the room. He wondered if they _felt _awkward, or if he was simply imagining it, filling their expressions and their movements with what he thought would be there, rather than seeing them for what they were.

"Mom and Dad seem alright," He commented to his sister, who was sitting beside him on the edge of the stage, also—he assumed—trying to avoid their Father's notice.

"I suppose," She muttered, stabbing at some innocent bug with one of her stilettos. "Not that I care."

Alec rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to respond. He knew Isabelle wanted their parents to get on, really, even if she didn't want to admit it. She was still angry. He didn't really blame her, although he privately almost pitied his Father all the same. It was no small thing being on the receiving end of Isabelle's wrath.

Behind them, Jace was playing the piano, looking as content as Alec had ever seen him when Clary wasn't in his presence. Speaking of which, where _was _Clary? This was her Mother's wedding, after all; Alec would have expected her to be centre stage...

"Have you spoken to him recently?" Isabelle asked, not looking up from her stabbing.

"What? Dad? No."

"Do you want to?"

Alec shrugged. "It depends what he wants to say."

In front of them, Maia was dancing with Bash—no, _Bat_. Alec knew he really ought to start remembering all these names, otherwise he was going to get himself into trouble. It was good to see Maia looking happy, he thought. In fact, everyone looked happy—Jocelyn, Luke, Jace, Clary—at least, the last time he had seen her. It seemed to him that only that Lightwoods were left out, standing slightly apart from the general joy that enveloped everyone else. They had lost Max; they had half lost their Father; Isabelle had lost Simon, and as for Alec...

"Isabelle!"

The two of them looked up to see Clary approaching, her curly hair flying about her face and her breathing coming in quick breaths, as if she had been running. "Isabelle, I need to talk to you!"

Isabelle frowned. "Okay, talk."

"I meant—in _private_."

She cast a significant look in Alec's direction, before widening her eyes at Isabelle, as if she thought that by staring hard enough, she could communicate whatever she had to say telepathically.

"I think you can say whatever it is in front of Alec," Isabelle said, sounding slightly bemused.

"No—I _can't_," Clary's significant looking was now so far from subtle Alec couldn't even pretend to miss it. "It's... a girl thing." She added, with an apologetic glance in his direction.

"Oh? _Oh._ I can't help you—my bag's in the house. I can go and get it..."

"What? No! Not _that_, I— Isabelle, _please_, just come over here for five minutes."

"It's fine, Izzy," Alec said, waving his hands. "I'm sure I don't really want to know, whatever it is."

Isabelle frowned at Clary, who beamed at her, as she got to her feet. "Okay, I'm intrigued. This had better be good."

"It is. Come on!"

And with that, the two of them were gone, weaving away into the crowd. Alec could see Clary was already talking animatedly, and smiled.

The piano music came to an end, and within a few moments, Jace had plonked himself down beside Alec on the stage.

"Your Dad's looking for you." He said.

"Oh."

"He's been trying to talk to Izzy all evening, too, but she blew him off."

"I wouldn't have expected anything less."

"I think you should talk to him."

"Why?"

Jace shrugged. "He's your Dad. He made a mistake. That doesn't mean you have to make him live with it for the rest of his life."

Alec looked down at his hands. "I know," He said, at length. "I just can't imagine he'll say anything other than what he's already said. He's made himself clear."

"He didn't seem... I don't know," Jace stared off into the crowd, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows. Alec looked up. "What is it?"

"I thought... Never mind."

"Do you know what Clary and Izzy are talking about?"

"No idea."

Alec squinted at him. "You're lying," He said. "Why? What is it?"

"It's... It's _Simon_."

"What? Jace..." Alec tailed off, following the line of Jace's gaze. There, sure enough, was Simon Lewis, standing awkwardly amongst a growing throng of people. Alec and Jace both got to their feet, not quite believing what was before them.

"Simon, I don't know if you remember Jace," Clary was saying, her eyes dancing, although she was clearly making an effort to control her excitement. "My boyfriend?"

"Um..." Simon frowned slightly. "Something's coming back to me. Did we...? There was a boat."

Jace grinned. "I knew I was memorable. You bit me, you thought it was kinda hot..."

Simon looked dazed. He turned to Alec. "And you...?"

"I'm Alec. Izzy's brother. You also bit me. It definitely _wasn't _hot."

"Alec. Yeah, I think... You're dating Magnus, right?"

Alec sensed everyone in the vicinity flinch slightly. Simon raised an eyebrow. "Not right?"

"Not... _wrong_..." Clary said, hastily.

"You remember Magnus?"

"I saw him. Today." Simon shook his head. "It's all been very... disorientating."

"Magnus did this?" Alec demanded, at the same time as a voice whispered, _Of course Magnus did this. Who else would it have been?_

"Alec..." Clary began.

"You've seen him?" He demanded, a little more forcefully than he had meant to. "When?"

"We... We've been talking." Clary cast a reluctant look back at Simon, who had disappeared behind Jocelyn and Maia, before grabbing his arm and dragging him aside. "Magnus wanted to help us get Simon back. He said he felt... responsible. And he didn't think it was fair."

"How...?"

"He's going to enrol in the academy." Clary's eyes were shining, but Alec could tell that beneath her excitement, she was worried. "He still doesn't remember everything. But Magnus managed to do something to help..."

Alec felt like he'd run at full pelt into a brick wall. He hadn't seen Magnus since walking away from him on the rooftop in Idris. His absence was a constant, distant ache that Alec suspected might never completely disappear. He was learning to ignore it. He _had _to learn. For the first month after returning from Idris, he had been good for almost nothing. He couldn't carry on that way. He was a _Shadowhunter_.

He tried not to think about Magnus. What he was doing, where he was, who he was with... It hurt. It hurt, and it would probably always hurt, and there was nothing he could do to change it. He had to let it go.

"Is he here?" He asked Clary, before he could stop himself.

Clary shook her head. "Alec—" She began, and then stopped, biting her lip.

"What is it?"

Clary looked torn. "I don't think he wanted me to tell you. But..."

"What? What did he say?"

"He's leaving New York."

"For how long?"

"Indefinitely. He's found someone to take over the High Warlock position while he's away. He seemed to think it would be a while."

A while. Alec wondered how long 'a while' was for Magnus. A month? A year? Twenty years?

_I might never see him again._

Clary was looking up at him, green eyes intense. "What are you saying?" Alec asked, his voice shaking.

"I'm not saying anything," She said, still giving him that same fixed look. "It's not my business."

Her eyes said differently. Her eyes said, _I'm giving you a choice, and you'd better make the right one._

Alec nodded. "Okay..."

Clary turned to look back at Simon, who was gazing around in bewilderment, clearly looking for a semi-familiar face to rely on. Isabelle stood slightly to the side of him, to all appearances quite indifferent to Simon's presence. Too indifferent. She was scared, Alec realised. Scared, and hopeful, and scared of being hopeful...

"I have to leave," He told Clary. "Tell your Mom it was a lovely service. I... I have to go..."

"That's alright,"

Clary had already turned away, desperate to return to Simon and Jace. Before she went, she turned back to him.

"I'd hurry, if I were you."

Alec nodded. "I will."

/

He was not quite sure how long it took him to reach Magnus' apartment from Luke's. A portal had been set up at the Farmhouse, but the subway had been busy, and it had taken him longer than it should have to get on a train. The whole way there, he had been planning what he was going to say to Magnus. _Thank you for helping Simon... You've made Isabelle and Clary very happy... I don't want you to leave New York..._

Nothing he could think of sounded right. He had worked himself into such a state by the time he reached the apartment block that he almost turned around and left. But one of Magnus' neighbours whom he vaguely recognised was exiting the building, and let him up with a small smile that suggested she remembered him. Before he had time to think, Alec was standing in front of Magnus' door.

He reached out a hand to knock—and the door swung open before him. Alec's heart skipped a beat.

"Hello?" He called. "Magnus...?"

The slice of the apartment he could see before him was gloomy and dim. His heart thudding in his throat, he pushed the door open, and took a tentative step inside.

From what he could make out, Magnus had chosen a mixture of cyberpunk and art deco for his apartments furnishings that week. One of the sofas was glowing neon blue, illuminating the chaos around it in a slightly alien glow, whilst the stain glass windows turned the dying outside light various shades of yellow and red and purple. It was about the most eclectic combination Alec could have imagined. He suspected it had occurred to Magnus quite naturally.

"Magnus?"

There was no reply. By the multicoloured light, he could see that there were clothes strewn all over the floor, and a metallic purple divan had been turned upside down. It wasn't the sort of chaos that suggested a struggle—there was no broken glass, no lingering scent of dark magic, no signs of the fight that Magnus would doubtlessly have put up...

This, Alec realised, was packing. Magic aided packing, done in a hurry.

"No," He whispered, striding through the painfully familiar living room to stick his head down the hallway and even round Magnus' bedroom door—though he couldn't bring himself to look for more than a moment in there—and in his study. Everywhere was dark, and empty.

There could be no doubt about it. Magnus was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Taki's was packed, and the atmosphere charged, the summer heat sending tempers spiralling and bringing old tensions to the surface. Alec sat back, not really listening to either the noise surrounding him, or the conversation Izzy, Jace and Simon were having in his immediate vicinity, but letting it all wash over him, bits and pieces leaping out at him, all the better for their lack of context.

"And I said to him—I said to him—you wave that kipper at me _one more time_..."

"Look, Dave's an asshole. Pete's an asshole. Harry is _less_ of an asshole, but that's hardly saying much. All the guys you're sleeping with are assholes!"

"Look, I'm just saying: the original Star Trek was _unrepeatable_. No amount of special effects are going to make up for the _soul_ of the thing, you know?"

"But the new Spock is kinda hot, which just about compensates, don't you think?"

"You're into _Spock? _That's—No, no, not at all. Alec—I'm right, aren't I?"

With a sigh, Alec tuned back in to the conversation before him. Simon, Izzy and Jace were all staring at him, eyes wide and earnest.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Nice try though,"

Simon rolled his eyes, and Izzy laughed. Alec wasn't quite sure when Izzy and Jace had started caring about Star Trek, but he knew exactly who to hold responsible. Isabelle, at least, had some sort of excuse in that she was actually dating Simon, but _Jace_...

The door swung open behind their booth, to reveal Clary, looking a little hot and flustered. Simon grinned. "Clary! Just the girl I need. The Star Trek reboot—terrible idea, right?"

"I'm withholding judgement," she said, sliding in beside Jace and kissing him on the cheek. "I'm excited—and terrified."

"Why? It's going to be awesome." Jace sat forward intently. "The original did not have enough explosions."

Alec groaned, and hit his head on the table, and Isabelle laughed. "If you would just stop being so stubborn and watch it, you'd be able to talk about it too," She teased.

"No. No, no, and also no. I _have _watched it. It's boring."

"But the new one won't be," Jace said. "Because it'll have _explosions_."

This provoked another round of furious debating, which Alec chose to sit out on. He leaned his head back against the soft fabric of the booth, and closed his eyes.

"_Two_ sodas? He wanted _two sodas_?"

"I know right? Ugh..."

"Who ordered the raw steak?"

"Anyway, so I go to the door, and lo-and-behold, who do I see? Only Magnus Bane, no less! Said he wants his job back!"

Alec felt like he'd been rudely electrocuted awake from sleep. He twisted round in his booth to get a look at who was speaking, and found himself looking at an irate brown skinned man with spikes protruding from his flesh at seemingly random intervals. He recognised him at once as Freddie Rock, the warlock who had been standing in for Magnus in his absence. He had helped out the New York Shadowhunters several times over the last few years. He was perfectly nice, and perfectly competent, if occasionally unreliable. He was speaking animatedly to two Ifrits, who listened with raised eyebrows.

"Didn't you put up a fight?"

"Put up a fight? Against _Magnus Bane? _You must be mad. He could skin a guy like me alive and use me to hold his toiletries without so much as chipping his nails! I know where I am in this world, I ain't got _pretensions_." Freddie sniffed and drew himself up with dignity. "I'm only a hundred years old. Who knows? Maybe in another three hundred years, I'll show him who's boss."

"Damn right," Said his friend. "If you ask me, the High Warlock of Brooklyn should be from Brooklyn."

"Yeah, well, no one did ask you. That's not how it works. Besides, he's lived here longer than I've been alive."

"Ain't the same," Muttered his friend, but she didn't say any more.

Alec's heart was hammering in his ears. He hadn't seen Magnus in three years—not since the night they'd broken up for good, on the rooftop in Idris. He hadn't heard a word from him, either. Clary still received the occasional text from him, Alec knew that, but she never really passed them along. Magnus never mentioned Alec, or even where he was. It had hurt to think of that, once, but Alec had gotten used to it. It was very Magnus.

He strained to hear any more of the downworlders' conversation, but they had lowered their voices, perhaps aware that others were listening in. He twisted back to face his friends, and found four pairs of eyes all trained on him.

"What?" He asked.

"What are you staring at?" Izzy asked, craning her neck to get a better look.

"Nothing!" Jace raised an eyebrow, and Alec felt his face flush. "Nothing," He repeated, but the damage was already done. He was now facing down four disbelieving expressions.

After a moment, Simon shrugged. "If you say so." He looked across at Clary, and they exchanged a glance, much too significant for Alec's liking.

"It was nothing," He muttered again, more for his own benefit than for anyone else's. Clearly, no one was going to listen to him.

/

"Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me right now."

"I already told you everything!"

"If you don't tell me, I'll cut holes in all your clothes."

"There are already holes in all my clothes."

"_Embarrassing_ holes. Nipple holes."

Alec blinked. "You wouldn't do that."

"I would too!" Izzy grinned. "And worse."

"Look, there's nothing to tell. Please get out of my room?"

Isabelle was clearly going nowhere. She sat on his bed, swinging her long legs, peering over Alec's shoulder at the book he was reading.

"What language is that?"

Alec snapped the book shut. "Did you know Magnus was back?"

The words were out before he could stop them, and he instantly regretted it. Isabelle's expression immediately melted into one of confused sympathy, much too practiced to be entirely believable.

"No... I mean, not _exactly._ Not for long. It's just—Clary said—"

Alec nodded, biting his lip. "Clary said. And how long has she known?"

"I—I don't know. Alec..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He hated how childish he sounded, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. The knowledge had been eating away at him since lunch time. Magnus was back. Magnus was back in New York. Magnus was back, in his old apartment, where Alec could go and see him any time he liked. Except—he couldn't. Magnus probably wouldn't like that. His heart contracted, the old ache returning full force for the first time in two years.

"We thought it might... upset you." Izzy said, choosing her words carefully. "Not that you can't handle it, obviously, but Jace thought-"

"Jace knew as well? No—of course he did. By the Angel, did you tell Simon too?"

Izzy shrugged apologetically, and Alec threw his hands up in exasperation. "Of course you did. Great. Just fantastic."

"It's not like you would have done anything with the information..." Izzy said, giving him a very arch look. "... is it?"

"No. Of course I wouldn't. I just don't appreciate you keeping it from me. I'm not a child. And besides. We broke up _three years ago. _I'm over it."

"You don't sound very over it."

"Well, I am."

He met her gaze, levelly. It was true: he _was_ over it. As much as you could ever really be over having someone you loved walk out of your life for good.

"Good," Isabelle stood up, folding her arms as she looked down at him. "You're way too good for him."

"Don't say that," Alec muttered, picking at a piece of loose cotton in his sleeve. "It's not like I'm angry with him. In fact—it'd be good to see him, I think. Just to catch up, you know?"

"No. No, I don't know. And I'd say that sounds like a terrible idea."

"No it isn't. Besides, you're one to talk."

"Exactly. Look at your life. Look at your situation. I, your sister, Isabelle Lightwood, am telling you that your idea is _awful._ Dreadful. Don't do it."

"It's really none of your business."

"Since when have I cared what's my business?"

Alec sighed, and got up. "Good point," He snapped over his shoulder, and marched out. Of his own bedroom. He really needed to install some sort of lock...

/

He managed to find some sort of privacy in the corner of the library, far out of sight of any of his siblings, their respective partners, or his parents. He needed to think.

Surely, it couldn't _really_ hurt to see Magnus, could it? It wasn't like it would be a romantic meeting. It would just be two old friends, catching up. Yeah. Izzy was just being melodramatic, as usual. It would be _fine. _

He pulled out his phone—and then hesitated. He had kept Magnus' number—just in case, of course—but there was no way of knowing that it was still the same. There had been at least six new varieties of phone in the three years that had elapsed since Magnus' departure, and he always did like to keep up with modern technology. Maybe he would be better off sending a fire message. Or just showing up at his door, casually, and seeing if he was free. But what if Magnus didn't want to see him? What if he was with a new girlfriend or boyfriend, and Alec texting or calling or showing up would just be an awkward, unwanted intrusion? What if he didn't reply, or answer? Maybe he didn't really care whether or not he saw Alec anyway, and Alec would just end up looking pathetic if he tried to get in touch. Maybe Isabelle was right. This was a terrible idea, Magnus wouldn't want to see him, he just needed to—

Before he could think any more about it, he grabbed a sheet of paper from a drawer in front of him, and bent over it, scribbling the first words that came into his head.

_Hi, Magnus. I heard you were back in New York and I was wondering if you might like to meet up for coffee, maybe, sometime? I know it's been a while but it would be good to talk to you. I hope you don't mind, and that you're doing okay, and everything. I don't mean anything by this, obviously. I'd just like to see you, if you'd like that too, and you might not, which is definitely fine. I don't know if you still have my number. If not, you can just fire message me. Please reply, even if it's to say no. I'm sorry if this seems out of the blue._

_Yours,_

_Alec Lightwood_

His brain screamed in protest—he sounded stupid, Magnus would think it was odd, he needed to cross it out and rewrite it—but he knew it would never get sent if he didn't do it now. He signed his name, folded the paper, and pulled out his steal, sketching out the appropriate runes on its surface.

The paper began to crumble and burn. Alec took a deep breath as it disappeared altogether.

_It's done. It's sent. All you can do now is wait. _He told himself. _Not that it matters if he replies, obviously. Because I'm over it. I'm really, really over it. It's definitely fine._


	5. Chapter 5

Magnus read over the note again, as if _this_ time, it might say something different than the last fifty thousand times he'd read it. He had paced his apartment with the little piece of paper in his hand for about four hours last night, until he'd finally fallen asleep on his sofa—only to wake up in the morning, and begin pacing all over again.

_No._ He thought. _I should definitely, absolutely and without any shadow of a doubt say no. _

No good could come of this. He hadn't seen Alec in more than three years—three long, tiring years—and on his return to New York, he'd had every intention of keeping it that way. He'd thought—given everything Alec had said—that he would prefer to keep it that way, too. Occasionally, their paths might cross professionally, but that was the most Magnus had expected. Cordial distance. It was just about the worst thing he could imagine, but he was a grown up, and he could handle it. Probably.

But this—this had caught him completely by surprise, ruining all his carefully laid plans for how he would behave, what he would do.

'_Please reply, even if it's to say no.'_

His heart caught in his throat. Alec. God, the whole thing was so _Alec_. He could picture him writing it; picture his threadbare sweater and his messy hair, the intent expression and the uncertainty...

It wasn't fair. Three years, Magnus had spent, going anywhere else in the world but _here_—trying to get over it, trying to move on. He'd spent six months in the Spiral Labyrinth, _studying_, so dire had the situation been. He'd been to London, Berlin, the Amazon Rainforest, the Galapagos Islands, Mumbai... He'd even spent a few months in Los Angeles with Tessa and Jem, partly as a sort of apology for missing their wedding. He hadn't been able to face it, somehow, and whilst he knew that they understood, he had still felt guilty. Their presence had been soothing for a while, but eventually, even their happiness—so well deserved—had begun to drain him. That was when he'd known it was time to come home.

Three years. Three years, and within the first three days of returning, Alec had contacted him, and everything he'd done in between was suddenly irrelevant.

He looked back down at the note again. _'Please reply...'_

"I'll say no," He said aloud, to no one in particular. "I'll just write back, and say that I don't want to see him. It's not like he'll ask again. I'll just say no."

He sat down at the table, head in hands.

'_It would be good to talk to you.' _

Magnus drummed his fingers on the table, trying not to imagine Alec's expression when he read his reply. Would he be hurt? Or just disappointed? He was clearly half expecting Magnus to refuse. He'd even signed the note with his full name, for Christ's sake, as if Magnus' wouldn't have known who he was from the first sentence, or from his handwriting. As if he might have forgotten.

Would he be waiting for Magnus' reply? Could he _possibly_ be over-thinking this as much about this as Magnus was?

He summoned a piece of paper from somewhere or other, and a sparkly purple pen—the only sort he really had rolling around his apartment. _Be polite. Be kind. But say no. I'm really sorry—but no._

With a sigh, he smoothed the paper, pulled the lid off the pen, and wrote:

_Alec,_

_I could do this afternoon at 3, if you can find a demon free half hour. Taki's?_

_Magnus._

He dropped the pen, and shoved the paper away.

_This is a terrible idea. Don't send it. Do not send it. Magnus Bane, do not—_

He sent it, and then sat back in his chair, unsure whether he felt liberated or panicked. This was almost certainly the stupidest idea he'd had in the last century. Usually, Magnus liked stupid ideas, but this one was going to hurt, and there was absolutely no chance of him gaining from it.

Four centuries was too long to live without having developed a healthy sense of self preservation. Magnus had always liked to take risks, had always accepted that being hurt was a part of staying human—but he also knew when to walk away. Or at least, he _had_, until he'd met Alec. But nothing had ever been usual with Alec.

Something crackled in the air in front of him, and Magnus jumped as a scrap of paper began to burn itself into existence before his eyes. It drifted down into his hands.

'_Magnus, _

_I'll see you at Taki's at 3, then._

_Alec'_

Magnus drew a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. The clock on his wall read _7:30_am, although admittedly, one of its hands had been replaced by a hot pink fluffy pipe cleaner, so it might not be entirely accurate. Only seven and a half hours to wait.

He was going to lose his mind.

/

Seven hours and twenty minutes later, Magnus found himself in Taki's, ordering his second cup of coffee and drumming his fingers steadily on the table in an attempt to soothe his nerves. He had arrived forty five minutes early, unable to bear another moment pacing up and down his apartment. He had changed his outfit eight times, restyled his hair five, and broken several mugs against the wall in temper. As if it mattered what he wore, or how his hair looked. Alec had never shown any sign of being able to distinguish between different shades of red whilst they were dating; there was no reason why he would now.

The door banged, and Magnus sat up a little straighter, his heart doing what felt like a triple back flip in his chest. This had happened every time the door had opened for the last three quarters of an hour, but this time, it was justified.

Alec looked as if he might have grown half an inch in the three years they had been apart, and his figure had lost some of its lankiness, but otherwise, he was unchanged. He badly needed to find some sort of hairdresser, Magnus thought, and he was pretty sure he recognised both the oversized jumper and the holey jeans from the time of their relationship. He had a few more white scars, creeping out from under his sweater up his neck and over his hands.

And Magnus loved him. Still, he still loved him.

Alec caught sight of him, and smiled. Magnus managed what he hoped was an airy wave as he approached.

"Well hello," He said. "You're early, Shadowhunter."

"So are you," Alec said, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Magnus shrugged. "It's so terribly passé to be late. They're always an hour early in Paris, these days."

Alec smiled again, his blues eyes lighting up. "Is that where you've been?" He asked. "Paris?"

"Amongst other places," He said, vaguely—and saw Alec's expression fall, slightly. "What about you?" He pressed on. "What have you been up to?"

Alec shrugged. "Oh, not much. Shadowhunting, mostly. I travelled round to a few Institutes too, with Jace, but our ranks are so stretched at the moment, it was... well, I'm sure you know." He finished, blushing slightly.

Magnus shook his head. "No, not at all—where did you go?"

To his surprise, Alec's blush deepened slightly. "Oh, you know, no where special," He muttered. "Madrid, Beijing..."

"Oh." There was a slight pause, during which their perky waitress chose to appear and take their order. They both ordered coffee, somewhat grateful for the distraction.

Once she was gone, Magnus looked back at Alec, who was looking down at the table, and wondered if he was being as obvious as he felt he was.

"It's good to see you," Alec said, at length.

Magnus nodded. "It's been a while," He said.

"Where _have _you been?" Alec asked, eyes flickering up to meet Magnus'. "I mean, I know I have no right to ask, but... I wondered."

Magnus felt something flutter in his chest—which he immediately made to bat down. _No,_ he told it, firmly. _No, you are not doing this. It doesn't mean what you want it to. _"It's fine," He said, as breezily as he could manage. "I was just—here and there, you know. The Spiral Labyrinth. Los Angeles. Moscow..."

"Did you see the Blackthorns?" Alec asked, his eyebrows raising slightly.

"Um—from a distance. I... I haven't had much to do with Shadowhunters, of late," Magnus admitted. Alec looked down at his hands, which were knotted on the tabletop.

"I visited Helen and Aline at Wrangle Island," He said. "They miss home,"

"As you would," Magnus sighed. He had tried hard not to think about the treaty he had so grudgingly helped to forge in Idris. The mere mention of it was enough to give him sleepless nights for a week.

"Is that why you came home?" Alec asked. "To New York, I mean."

"Yes, in a sense." Magnus couldn't help but laugh slightly. "That, and I figured I couldn't avoid you forever."

He realised at once that he had said the wrong thing. Alec's brows furrowed, and he looked down, biting the inside of his lip. "Oh." He said. "Right."

Magnus wanted to reach across to him—to say he was sorry, to take it back, to say anything at all that might stop Alec from looking like that—but he knew it was too late. They had barely been together five minutes and already, _already_, he'd said the wrong thing.

"I don't mean..." He began, but Alec shook his head, cutting him off.

"It's fine." He said, though clearly, it wasn't. "That's—fine."

They sat in silence for another minute, Alec staring stonily at the table, Magnus searching desperately for something to say.

"Are you seeing any one?" He blurted out, before he had quite thought about it—and then wanted to kick himself.

Alec shook his head. "I... I was. We broke up about a month ago."

Magnus nodded, ignoring whichever one of his internal organs felt like it was cracking apart this time. "I'm sorry,"

"It happens." Alec was still not looking at him. "What about you?"

As it happened, Magnus had not dated anyone, in three years. There had been people, certainly, but no _relationships_. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to have a relationship again.

"I have an... on and off thing," He lied. "It's difficult to explain."

"Oh. Right. Well—great. That's—great. I'm glad."

Neither of them spoke. The silence dragged on between them, Alec still studying the table as though it were covered in interesting hieroglyphics.

"Are you okay?" Magnus asked, eventually, unable to bear it any longer.

"Yes, I'm fine. You know, if you didn't want to come today, Magnus, you didn't have to." Alec said, quietly. "I didn't mean to force you, if you didn't want to see me."

"No—Alec, no, that's not..."

"Then what?" Alec's gaze snapped up to meet Magnus', his eyes bright with hurt. "What _did_ you mean?"

Magnus opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it again. _I loved you. You know I loved you. I still love you, and being here with you is the best and worst thing that's happened to me in three years. _

"Right." Alec said again, and looked away, the muscles around his mouth working overtime. All at once, he stood up, the chair sliding away from him with a clatter that made several other people look up. "This was stupid. I'm sorry I asked you here. I don't know what I was thinking. I—sorry."

And with that, he was hurrying away, leaving Magnus gaping in his seat as their waitress approached awkwardly with their coffee.

"You know you still have to pay for these, right?" She said.

Magnus hit his head on the table.

/

"I mean, _avoiding_ me! Can you believe that? Avoiding me. For _three years."_

Alec was pacing furiously up and down the weapons room, pausing only occasionally to pick up a knife and throw it at the wall. Jace was leaning against a pile of pikes, nonchalantly picking at his nails.

"Sure I can," He said. "You dumped him, remember?"

"He gave me no choice! Besides. He dumped me first. Did I leave the city?"

"Yes, actually. If I remember correctly, you even went so far as to leave the_ dimension_."

Alec rolled his eyes, and hurled another knife. It lodged itself in a wooden beam with a satisfying twang.

"That was totally different. I wasn't _avoiding_ him. I was _rescuing _him. I mean—three years. Three years, Jace! Not one word, in all that time." He stopped pacing in order to pull his knife free from the wall.

"You didn't try to contact him while he was in New York," Jace pointed out.

Alec didn't reply. It wasn't as if he hadn't _wanted _to talk to Magnus—he had, so terribly it had at times been almost irresistible—but he had always stopped himself. If Magnus had wanted to solve their problems, he knew what he had to do. And he hadn't. Which was fine. Alec had moved on. He was definitely, definitely over it.

"But _still,_" He continued. "Three years. That's ridiculous, isn't it?"

Jace rolled his eyes. "We're talking about Magnus here. If you think that's the most ridiculous thing about him, Raziel help you."

Alec permitted him a rueful smile, before he returned to his pacing. He knew Jace was almost certainly bored with the conversation by now—they'd been having it for at least the last five hours—but he didn't feel able to stop himself. He couldn't get the image of Magnus sitting across from him in Taki's out of his mind; the sound of his voice as he said, _"I figured I couldn't avoid you forever..."_

He knew, somewhere deep down, that he was being irrational. He had no right to be angry at Magnus. Where he went, with who and for how long, was completely his business, and had nothing whatsoever to do with Alec. And yet he couldn't seem to stop trembling.

"I'd just like to repeat what I said this morning," Jace said.

"You said a lot of things this morning," Alec muttered. "You can't expect me to remember all of them."

"I said—_This is a terrible idea, and you'll regret it._ And wasn't I right?"

Alec sighed, dropping the pacing all together and going to slump beside Jace on the uncomfortable metal spikes. "I just—I wanted to set things right, you know? I thought maybe... Maybe we could try and be friends. Put the past behind us, you know?"

Jace raised an eyebrow. "Friends?"

"Yeah. You know. People you like and spend time with?"

"You're not supposed to be in love with your friends." Jace said, matter of factly.

Alec gaped at him. "I'm not in love with Magnus."

"Right. And let me guess, you're also deeply, abashedly heterosexual."

"Hahaha. When did you get so funny?"

"I'm just saying. You've been talking about him for nearly six hours."

"Yeah—because he said he was _avoiding me."_

Jace didn't say anything, but met his gaze levelly, drumming his fingers against the metal behind him.

"I'm over him,"

"You might want to examine your feelings,"

"_You're_ telling me to examine my feelings? I must be doing something wrong."

"It's the truth," Jace said, with a shrug. "You need to think about why it upset you so much."

Alec looked down at his shoes. "Maybe I should go and talk to him," He said, at length.

"What? No! How did you get that from what I just said?"

"I think it's the best idea," Alec said, ignoring Jace and getting to his feet.

"Alec—_no_. It's absolutely the worst idea."

"I'll just go and knock on his door. We'll talk it through."

"Again—_no_."

Alec reached the door, and turned to glare at him. "Would you do any differently?" He demanded.

"Of course. I'd go and kill something. It's the only way to really sort your feelings out."

Alec rolled his eyes, and let the door slam shut behind him. He half expected Jace to run after him, but all he got was a faint shout of,

"Don't do anything I wouldn't!"

"No fear," He muttered. "When have I ever?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! Thanks for all the nice reviews. Hopefully, things should be starting to pay off this chapter **

"_After the break: Will Angie ever forgive Steve? Find out next."_

Magnus groaned, and rolled his eyes. "She does," He informed the Chairman, who was curled up contentedly on Magnus' chest. "But then he dies, and she marries his brother for money."

The Chairman did not respond. Apparently, Angie and Steve's relationship issues were of even less interest to him than they were to Magnus. With a sigh, he clicked his fingers, and the TV flickered off. He had seen enough soap operas in his life to last him until at least the twenty second century.

All he really wanted to do was sleep—he was tired, almost impossibly so—but his mind would not stop whirring. Every time he closed his eyes, Alec's face swam before him, frowning slightly, his blue eyes dark. _"Oh. Right."_

Magnus had waited in Taki's for an hour after Alec's sudden exit, though he wasn't really sure why. Clearly, Alec was not going to come back. But he hadn't felt able to move.

"I screwed it up," He told the Chairman. "I was barely with him ten minutes, and I've pretty much made sure he'll never speak to me again."

The cat shifted on his chest, kneading at him with sharp claws. "Ow," Magnus protested. Again, the Chairman ignored him.

Magnus was just considering summoning a takeaway of some description, when his intercom buzzed, making him jump, and sending his cat running across the apartment.

"Coward," Magnus muttered, before getting up to answer.

"This is the high Warlock of Brooklyn," He called into the received. "What do you want?"

"Um, nothing." Said the voice on the other end, and Magnus' heart faltered. "It's Alec. Lightwood. I, uh, wondered if I could speak to you?"

Magnus hesitated. "You _are_ speaking to me," He said, at length.

"Properly. Please, Magnus."

Magnus closed his eyes for a long moment. _I must be mad. _

"Fine," He sighed, and buzzed him up.

A moment later, there was a light tap on his door. Magnus took a moment to run a hand through his hair and adjust his slightly rumpled clothing before opening it.

Alec looked up as he opened the door, and Magnus immediately wished he had made him stay downstairs, talking through the intercom. He looked very forlorn.

"I'm sorry," Alec said, without preamble. "I shouldn't have left, earlier. I was being stupid."

Magnus raised his eyebrows, and leant against the doorframe. "Were you?"

Alec frowned slightly. "Well—yes. At least, I think so. I had no right to be angry. You have every right to avoid me if you want to."

Under other circumstances, Magnus might have laughed. As it was, he shook his head, and said, "I know. And I don't want to."

"But you did," Alec said, biting his lip. Magnus felt like striking his head repeatedly against the wood of the doorframe. _I didn't. I didn't. You're an idiot. I missed you so much. _

"Maybe. But—avoiding you and not wanting to see you aren't quite the same thing, you know."

"Aren't they?"

"Of course they aren't,"

Magnus met Alec's gaze steadily. "Well." Alec said, at last, looking away. "What I actually wanted to say to you this morning, before I got... sidetracked, was that it's good that you're back in New York again, and I was wondering if we might... If we could be friends?"

Friends. Oh, _God. _"I don't know if that's a good idea, Alexander," Magnus sighed.

Alec looked crestfallen. "Why not?"

It was very cool in Magnus' apartment building; the summer heat had curdled into a storm, lashing rain against the window behind him. Alec looked slightly damp himself, in his hideous sweater and baggy jeans, a drop of water that had been clinging to his hair dropping onto his eyelashes, making him blink.

"Why do you think?" Magnus was a little horrified to hear the slight crack in his voice as he spoke, and he hastily tried to cover it by leaning even more nonchalantly on the doorframe. _Coward, _he thought to himself. _Why can't you just tell him how you feel?_

Magnus had always prided himself on being able to speak his mind; on being brave, on taking risks. But what would be the point? Alec had made himself clear three years ago. _You make me unhappy. _

There was no arguing with that.

"I don't know," Alec replied, quietly. "I never know what you're thinking."

He looked away. There was a fresh iratze fading on the side of his neck. Magnus remembered that there had been a time when he could have reached out and touched it, could have asked where it came from...

"I think that being friends with exes is never a good idea."

"Never?"

"Very rarely."

"I could be very rare," Alec said, with a half-joking, half-hopeful smile.

Magnus looked down, and the smile died. "Sorry," He said.

Alec nodded. "Don't be. That's okay. I shouldn't have... I'll go. I'll... see you around, I guess."

He turned, and Magnus felt something like panic flare up in his chest. "No—wait,"

Alec turned back. "What is it?" He asked, eyes going wide.

"I... I don't know."

There was a moment of silence, in which Magnus realised that he had reached out and grabbed Alec's wrist. He let it go, and stepped back, cursing himself for his weakness.

"I'm sorry," He said. "That was-"

He never got to finish his sentence, because—before he could quite understand what had happened—Alec was kissing him, hard. For a moment, Magnus froze, before he gasped, and wrapped his arms around Alec's neck, sagging against him and pulling him closer all at once, winding his fingers in his dark hair. Alec's arms wound around his waist in turn, unbalancing them, and causing Magnus to stumble slightly into the door. Magnus felt Alec laugh into the kiss, and any vague feelings of trepidation he had had flew out of the window. He kissed Alec with three years worth of love and hurt and relief, and for one long moment he could believe that maybe—maybe—this had all been some huge mistake. How could he believe otherwise, when Alec was kissing him like _that_?

Alec's hands found the hem of Magnus' shirt, and wandered underneath it, over Magnus' back and waist.

"Wait," Magnus murmured, for the second time that day. "Alec, wait,"

Alec pulled away, breathing hard. "What is it? What's wrong?"

For a moment, Magnus considered saying what he probably _should_ say, which was—_We should slow down. We should talk about this. This could be a very, very bad idea. _But the words that actually came out were,

"We should probably go inside,"

Alec blinked, and Magnus grinned, before tugging his hand and pulling him inside his apartment, and slamming the door behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! Thanks for reading and reviewing and things—it really motivates me. An apology for later in the chapter (you'll know what I mean when you get there): the inner monologue of cats apparently sounds a lot like Ron Swanson in my mind. **

Later, they lay side by side, limbs entangled, Alec's ear pressed against Magnus' chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as it began to steady. "Well," He said. "That was unexpected."

Magnus laughed. "You're the one that came here."

Alec glanced up at him. "I really, _really_ didn't plan this."

Magnus looked at him for a long moment, before smiling slightly, and taking Alec's hand in his, playing with his fingers. Alec felt his heart stutter, and felt a momentary amazement that after everything they had just done, something so simple could still produce such an effect. "I believe you." Magnus murmured.

Alec shifted himself so that he was laying almost level with Magnus, who in response, turned and wrapped an arm around him, burying his face in Alec's hair. "You'd better." Alec muttered, and felt Magnus smile against his forehead.

Alec chanced another glance up at him, and saw that Magnus' eyes were closed. A million questions burned on his lips—_What are you thinking? What does this mean? Do you still love me? I think I still love you. Are we going to talk about this? What are you thinking?_—But he couldn't bring himself to say anything. His heart was still beating fit to burst with happiness and hope and fear—fear that a single wrong word might disturb whatever this was, that a single wrong move might end this and send Magnus running out of his life again before Alec could even bring himself to believe he was back.

_I still love you. _

He wasn't sure when the realisation had hit him—whether it had been on his way up the stairs, or when Magnus had opened the door, or even just before Alec had kissed him—but he knew that it was true; that it had been true for the last three years. But he also knew that nothing had changed.

And after all, how likely could it be that Magnus felt the same?

Alec sneaked one more look up at Magnus. He found it difficult to believe that he was actually asleep already—but he certainly looked it. Alec pressed himself a little closer, and closed his eyes, and murmured a silent prayer against the skin of his shoulder that maybe, just maybe...

Maybe something.

/

When Magnus awoke in the morning, it was to the sound of an irritating buzzing sound coming from somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear. Groaning, he reached out an arm and scrabbled about on the bedside table for a moment, before finally finding his phone, and jabbing the red button repeatedly.

_6 Missed Calls From: Tree face girl. _The screen read. Magnus slumped against the pillow, sighing internally. Clients. They never gave you a moment's rest.

He turned slightly to his right, to find Alec still sleeping soundly, mouth drooping open a little. Magnus felt a wild, irrational moment of relief. He had half feared that he had simply dreamt Alec's arrival at his door, and all that had ensued, but it was real. It was real, he was here, there was a chance—there _had _to be a chance, didn't there? It couldn't mean nothing.

At once, the phone started to buzz again. Magnus momentarily considered throwing the damn thing against the wall, and going back to sleep—but he knew, deep inside, in a place beyond even the appeal of curling up next to Alec Lightwood again—that he was almost certainly late for something important, and he should almost certainly answer his phone.

With a final, reluctant look at Alec, he threw back the duvet and grabbed a pair of boxers from a drawer, before slinging on a dressing gown and emerging into the kitchen to answer. He almost tripped over a pair of jeans—Alec's, he thought—abandoned in the hallway, and couldn't suppress a grin.

"Ugh, _finally,_" Said a voice, when he called back the number. "Where _are _ you?"

"I'm sorry, but did we have an appointment?" Magnus asked, breezily.

"Yes! You're supposed to be coming over to get this stupid face out of my tree. Remember?"

"Ah, yes." Unfortunately, Magnus _did _remember. A perfectly nice werewolf girl had had some sort of run in with her Warlock ex-boyfriend, who had been kind enough to repay her by enchanting an obnoxious face into the apple tree in her yard. The face was not only ugly, and disconcerting, but also had a terrible habit of hurling abuse at unsuspecting mundanes. Magnus had to remind himself not to laugh every time he thought about it. "I'm very sorry, I was a little... preoccupied this morning, and I forgot. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you, I'm sorry to be so belligerent but—my Mother is visiting later, and she's very sensitive."

"I quite understand." Magnus said. "I'll be about twenty minutes."

"Okay." Somewhere in the background, Magnus thought he heard a strident voice howling _"Lying no good Satanist hag! I can see your bra through your shirt!" _

"Please hurry." The girl said, and hung up.

Magnus lay his phone down on the side, and slumped against the counter for a moment, thinking. The job should only take him about ten minutes. He could be back at his apartment within the hour. He could buy bagels. The possibilities were endless.

Quietly, he sloped back into his bedroom. Alec had turned onto his front, but was clearly still asleep. Magnus was horrified to feel a stupid grin spreading over his face. He _needed_ to get a handle on that.

He slung on a T-Shirt and jeans, and applied a bare minimum of eyeliner, before turning back to the sleeping Shadowhunter in his bed, debating. It seemed cruel to wake him, when he looked so restful, but Magnus couldn't risk him waking up and finding himself alone in the apartment. God knows what he would make of _that_.

He snapped his fingers, and at once a notepad and pen appeared in his hand. Magnus leant down on the bedside table, and quickly scrawled:

"_Dear Alec,_

_A client called this morning with an emergency—of sorts—and I have to go and help. I'll be back in an hour, at most. Please don't go anywhere. Help yourself to anything you want, but be careful of the bananas, they might bite._

_Magnus"_

He ripped the sheet off, and carefully lay it on the pillow he had just vacated, where it couldn't possibly be missed. A quick glance at the time told him he now only had ten minutes to reach the girl's house when he had promised. He was going to have to run.

He took a final, long look at Alec. Before he could stop himself, he was bending to press a kiss to Alec's forehead. "I love you," He whispered—and was out the door, before he could start to worry himself thinking Alec might be awake after all.

/

Chairman Meow had spent a most uncomfortable night attempting to sleep on top of a cupboard, having found himself rudely usurped from his usual position on the tall one's bed. The tall one had replaced him with an only slightly less tall one—whom the Chairman thought smelled familiar, though he couldn't think why—and shut the Chairman out of the room, like the ungrateful thing he was. The Chairman sniffed, hopping down from his sleeping spot, and ambling across the room, following the foreign-familiar scent as he went along. The door was open now; the tall one had gone out, and Chairman Meow was going to seize the opportunity to reclaim his rightful place.

He padded into the room, and hopped onto the bed, clambering over the slightly-less-tall-one in the process, causing him to mumble something and stir. Up close, the Chairman was _certain_ he recognised this one. He was an acceptable extra to have around.

The Chairman proceeded to the other pillow, and set about making himself comfortable. There was something in his way—something white and easy to crumple, which made a crinkling noise under his paws as he kneaded the soft fabric. The Chairman kicked it out of the way in irritation. Why was the tall one so needlessly messy, he wondered? It was a source of eternal annoyance to his cat, who—being longsuffering, and wonderful—continued to put up with him. He really was the most ungrateful tall thing ever to exist.

The one in the bed beside him was beginning to open its eyes, and sit up. Chairman Meow settled down, and tried to his best to look willing to be stroked. If he remembered correctly, this one was a stroker. He liked this one.

/

Alec awoke, suddenly, to the sensation of four little weights being dug momentarily into his stomach, before vanishing again. He lay groggily for a moment, trying to understand where he was, drifting in and out of sleep to a strange crunching, growling sound which he couldn't interpret.

Eventually, he tore his eyes open, to be greeted by the sight of Chairman Meow, curled up and purring on the bed beside him. The _empty _bed beside him.

Alec looked around, bewildered. "Magnus?" He said.

There was no answer. Alec got up, quickly locating his boxers, which were crumpled at the foot of the bed, and stuck his head out of the bedroom door.

"Magnus?" He called again, a little louder this time.

His voice sounded dully around the apartment. Something icy and awful solidified in his chest.

He picked his way through the hallway, locating jeans and socks and a jumper as he went, though his T-shirt was nowhere to be seen. He pulled them on, all the while searching desperately for some sign of Magnus' presence, or of where he might be, but there was nothing.

Alec reached the table at the far end of the room, and slumped heavily into a chair, before pulling out his phone to see if Magnus had text him—a faint hope, considering he wasn't sure if Magnus even had his number anymore, but hope all the same.

He had eleven texts; one from Jace, and ten from Isabelle. None from Magnus.

He read Jace's message first. It said, simply, _'I should have bet money on this.' _

Alec stuck his tongue out at the screen, before opening Isabelle's messages.

'_Alec, where are you?'_

'_You're not at Magnus', are you?'_

'_You'd BETTER not be at Magnus'."_

'_IF YOU'RE AT MAGNUS', I SWEAR ON THE ANGEL'S NAME, ALEC LIGHTWOOD, YOU'RE DEAD TO ME'_

'_HE'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU'_

'_Although, if you ARE going to sleep with him, could you ask him about that tracking job we needed? You know, with that Vampire'_

'_Not that you should sleep with him. YOU ARE A LIGHTWOOD. LIGHTWOODS DON'T HOOK UP WITH THEIR EXES. WE ARE TOO CLASSY, AND TOO PRETTY. ARE YOU A LIGHTWOOD OR NOT?'_

'_Oh my goddddd Alec why do you never answer your phone? Stop ignoring me!'_

'_Well. I hope you're pleased with yourself. The Lightwood Legacy is in ruins at your feet. Our children will have to begin again from scratch. BOYS ARE SO PREDICTABLE'_

'_PS: If this means you're getting back together with Magnus, IGNORE EVERYTHING I JUST SAID. Except the part about boys being predictable. That will always be true. XOXOXOXOX'_

Alec snapped the phone shut with a click and an eye roll, before getting up to look around the apartment one last time. Magnus definitely wasn't there.

_Does that mean he wants me to leave? It didn't seem like he wanted me to leave. But he's always been good at hiding his feelings. Nobody leaves someone alone in their apartment after sex unless they want them to go, do they? Oh god. _

He wasn't sure exactly how to describe what he was feeling, but it was somewhere between humiliated, angry, and devastated. And stupid. _Raziel_, did he feel stupid.

With a sigh, he shoved his phone back into his pocket, and went hunting for his shoes, which he found discarded near the sofa. Images from the night before flashed before his eyes, unwelcome and painful. The T-Shirt was still nowhere to be found, and Alec abandoned all hope of ever seeing it again. He didn't want to risk being here when Magnus got back—not when it was so obvious what Magnus wanted. It would only make things awkward.

He _did _have one last look around the kitchen and bedroom, just in _case_ Magnus had left him some sort of note, but there was nothing to be seen. He gave the Chairman one final pat good bye—and then was out of the door, his heart sitting somewhere in the region of his knees, with no promise of it ever resurfacing.

Clearly, Magnus didn't love him. Three years of trying to get over him, and it was all ruined. _Magnus didn't love him anymore. _

Jace had been right. This was almost certainly the worst idea he'd ever had. And he couldn't even regret it.

/

"Hello?" Magnus called, slamming the door shut with his right arm as he attempted to balance bagels and coffee with his left. "Alexander?"

He was met with an ominous and suspicious silence. Surely he couldn't still be asleep? Shadowhunters were almost universally early risers, and Alec was no exception.

"Alec?" Magnus called again, heart sinking slightly. He ditched the bagels and coffee on the counter, before making his way slowly towards the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. Just as he reached it, the Chairman emerged, looking smug—as usual. He brushed himself against Magnus' legs, and Magnus pushed the door open.

Alec was not there. Neither, unsurprisingly, was the little note Magnus had left him. In a daze, he wandered round the side of the bed. The little piece of paper lay crumpled on the floor, where Alec had clearly dropped it, before leaving.

"Alec." He said again, not really sure what he was hoping to achieve—Alec was gone, he had clearly gone, he wasn't going to answer—but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "Alec."

He reached down, and picked the paper up. _Please don't go anywhere..._

Magnus felt as though his bones had turned to lead. He collapsed back on the bed behind him, burying his face in pillows and silk. "My Alec...'

Or not, it seemed. So very definitely _not _his Alec.


	8. Chapter 8

"Alec? Are you coming out?"

"No."

"You've been in there all day."

"I know."

"Tell me what happened!"

"Nothing happened, Isabelle! Please, I'm having a nap."

"A _ten hour_ nap?"

Alec groaned, rolled over, and pulled his duvet up over his head. He loved his sister more than he could say, but she was almost certainly one of the nosiest people in New York. There was no way he could just tell her—_I stayed over at Magnus', and then left this morning—_or even (more accurately)—_I stayed over at Magnus' and then he left me this morning so I'm planning on staying in this room forever and never interacting with anyone again_—because Isabelle _had_ to know everything.

And there was a very serious possibility that if he _did_ tell her, Magnus would end up losing a limb before the evening was out.

"Isabelle..." He began, but to no avail. He could hear rustling, and suddenly the door was being flung open, an unlocking rune carved into the wood. It revealed Isabelle, standing with her hands on her hips, and behind her—somewhat to Alec's surprise—Jace.

"Look, I know what you're going to say, and I don't need to hear it," Alec said. "It was a terrible idea, I'm an idiot, you were right, etc. Can I get some sleep now?"

"You've been sleeping all day," Isabelle said, flinging herself down on the end of Alec's bed, whist Jace settled himself on a chair, looking only very mildly interested in the conversation at hand. "It's boring. Tell me what happened so that I know whether to get someone to curse Magnus."

Jace snorted. "The only person we know powerful enough to curse Magnus is Magnus." He pointed out. "I don't think even I'm charming enough to make him do that."

"Nobody is cursing _anybody_," Alec said, firmly. "I feel like I have to say that too often to you, Isabelle."

She shrugged. "What can you do? A girl's gotta curse who a girl's gotta curse."

Jace nodded sagely. "Damn straight."

"... Anyway, my point is—don't do _anything. _It'd just be embarrassing."

Isabelle rolled her eyes and jumped to her feet. "You're _so_ annoying. Clearly, something happened. I mean, you don't stay the night at your ex's house, then come back and lay in your room all day if everything's just tickity-boo."

"I haven't been laying in my room all day!" Alec said, indignantly.

"Going to the bathroom doesn't count."

Alec met Jace's gaze over Isabelle's shoulder. Jace raised an eyebrow, and Alec shrugged.

"Izzy, let me talk to him. This needs a man's touch."

Isabelle looked incredulous. "A man's touch? I hardly think so."

"Please, Isabelle." Alec said, quietly.

Izzy stared at him for a moment, and Alec felt instantly guilty. "Sorry," He muttered.

"Fine. That's fine." She snapped, and stomped out of the room. "Traitor," She hissed at Jace, over her shoulder. He grinned, and Isabelle slammed the door.

"Okay." Jace said. "Tell me what happened."

"No."

"C'mon Alec, you know you want to tell me, and you know you're _going_ to tell me, so why don't we just cut out the middle part?"

Alec scowled at him. Jace was annoying at the best of times, but he was even more annoying when he was right.

"Fine! I went to Magnus' apartment, and I apologised for being crazy, and I said I wanted to be friends, and _he_ said he didn't think that was a good idea, so then I was leaving, but... I don't really know what happened. We ended up—we were—we had sex."

"No wa-a-y," Jace exclaimed. Alec ignored him

"And then, this morning, I woke up and he was... gone."

"Gone?

"Just gone. No explanation. So I left."

Jace leaned back in his chair, a low whistle escaping his lips. "He hasn't called you? Or text?"

Alec produced his phone from beneath the duvet, more than slightly sheepishly. "No."

"And you haven't called or text him?"

Alec sighed. "Clearly, he doesn't want me to. I'm not eighteen anymore, I can't just keep calling and calling and hoping that one day, he'll pick up. He won't. Obviously, he thinks it was a mistake and he wanted to avoid any awkwardness... What?"

Jace was frowning slightly. "I don't know. I just never had Magnus down as that much of a coward."

"He isn't always exactly direct."

"Clary said-" Jace stopped suddenly, and shook his head.

"Clary said what?"

"Nothing. Just that Magnus can be quite blunt when he wants to be."

"An empty apartment can be surprisingly blunt under certain circumstances."

Jace smiled. "Point taken. So, what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean, what am I going to do? Nothing. There's nothing I can do, is there?"

"You could talk to him."

Alec raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Aren't you going to tell me that's the worst idea ever again?"

"The damage is already done, isn't it? I mean, unless you're just moping in here for the hell of it."

"It's too embarrassing.

"Ah, sometimes you have to embarrass yourself for love." Jace said, sagely.

"He doesn't love me."

"You don't know that."

"Why would he have done this if he loved me? It doesn't make any sense."

"I don't know. It's Magnus. Since when does he make sense?"

Alec sat, looking down at his hands. "Do you want to know the worst part of this?"

Jace raised an eyebrow. "This isn't the worst part?" He said, gesturing to Alec.

"I couldn't find my shirt."

Jace stared at him for a moment, and then started to laugh. After a moment, Alec couldn't help but join in.

"Well, then, you've got an excuse, haven't you? Go over, demand that he give you your shirt back and then browbeat him for being an asshole. And then probably have sex, again." Jace said. Alec threw a pillow at him.

"No way," He said. "Absolutely not. Izzy was right. The Clave should make some sort of rule about sleeping with exes."

"They probably already have one," Jace pointed out. "They've got one for just about everything else."

He got to his feet. "I've got to go. Me and Clary are having dinner at her Mom's. Can't be late. Are you going to talk to Magnus?"

"I don't know." Alec said. "I'll think about it."

Jace nodded. Momentarily, he seemed to hesitate, as if about to speak.

"Is there something else?"

"Uh—no. I'll see you later."

"Okay...?"

There was definitely something else, but Alec knew better than to push Jace. He would say when he was ready.

Jace shut the door gently behind him, and Alec lay back, contemplating the ceiling, as if it might give him some advice.

Part of him wanted nothing more than to go to Magnus' apartment and shout at him, to demand to know _why_, to ask if he had done something wrong. Another part of him wanted to go to Magnus' apartment and kiss him until he forgot what had happened that morning, forgot everything that had happened in the three years since they had broken up, and pretend that he was still eighteen, that they were still together, that he was still happy.

A third part of him never wanted to see Magnus again.

_Well. _Alec thought. _Mathematically speaking, that probably means I should go see him. _

And if Jace thought it was a good idea...

_My life is definitely going down the drain._ Alec realised. _I've started thinking that Jace Herondale gives good advice. _

/

Forty minutes and a shower later, he was standing outside Magnus' door, suddenly feeling very, very nervous. He had used an unlocking rune to get past the downstairs door, feeling fairly certain that Magnus would have denied him entry over the intercom. He had absolutely no idea what he wanted to say—but he was certain that he wanted, _needed_, to say it.

Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the door three times.

There was a moment of silence, followed by a shuffling, scraping sound, and then the door was flung open, and Magnus stood in front of him, wearing a loose white shirt and silk trousers that revealed part of his navel. Alec was forcefully reminded of the first time he had come here, and had fought constantly his entire visit _not_ to look at that strip of skin. The memory was bittersweet, and almost painful in a way it had not been before.

Magnus' mouth fell open slightly as he froze in the doorway. Whoever he had been expecting to see, it certainly wasn't Alec. He had seen Magnus startled so rarely, it shook him, and all his words spilled out in a rush.

"I'm sorry—I mean—I'm really sorry—you have my shirt—I mean... That's not really why I—Sorry."

Magnus composed himself quickly, folding his arms across his chest and scowling. His hair was very rumpled, making him look very young—younger than Alec, now, though he hadn't once.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

"I... I left my shirt."

Magnus shrugged. His gaze was very, very cold. "Oh, you shouldn't have."

Alec bit his lip. "Can I have it back?"

Magnus looked down at his nails, which were painted fluorescent green, where they definitely had not been the night before. "No."

Alec felt dull anger flicker in the pit of his stomach. "Why not?"

"You shouldn't have been so careless."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I left in _something_ of a hurry." Alec snapped. Magnus' face went instantly blank, a sure sign that he was feeling _something_, and Alec felt a grim satisfaction in knowing that at least he felt _some_ guilt; at least he knew he had been unkind.

"I did wonder," Magnus said, at length. He made no move inside the apartment. Alec supposed he could probably summon the shirt, if he so desired—but clearly, he didn't. Perhaps he was trying to make a point, though the angel knew what it was.

For a moment, they stood staring at each other in silence. Alec wished desperately that he could read minds, that he could know what Magnus was thinking and feeling. He remembered having felt that way quite often during their relationship, too.

"I'm sorry," Alec blurted out. "If I did something wrong— last night, or... this morning. I just... you know what I mean."

Magnus nodded, slowly. "I believe I do know. It's fine. I just don't understand why you're here now—and don't say the shirt," He said with an eye roll, as Alec opened his mouth to respond. "We both know you've got forty others exactly like it."

"That's not the point. It's the principle." Alec said.

"The principle?"

"It's _my shirt_. And it's not like you want it."

Alec met Magnus' gaze steadily. All at once, Magnus began to laugh.

"Fine! Fine. Have the damn shirt. What do I care?"

At once, there was black fabric pooling in his grasp. Magnus stepped forward and shoved it roughly into Alec's hands. His skin brushed Alec's as he moved away, feeling like a match touched briefly to tinder, and Alec closed his eyes.

"There." Magnus snapped. "Happy?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"I want to kiss you again."

Magnus blinked. "You... what?"

Alec could feel his face reddening, but he repeated himself, nonetheless. "I want to kiss you."

Magnus stared for a moment, looking surprised for the second time, before he said, "Why?"

"I don't know. I know I shouldn't, after this morning and everything that's happened, but I do. I mean, I won't, I'm not going to if you-"

Before he could finish, Magnus' mouth was pressed against his, warm and demanding, and Alec gave up any thought of being angry, any thought of anything but Magnus' hands in his hair and the taste of Magnus' lips on his.

Alec pressed forward into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Magnus' neck and opening his mouth. Magnus made a small sound in the back of his throat as Alec pushed them against the wall, his fingers untangling from Alec's hair to roam over his shoulders and his back, under his shirt. One of his legs hitched up slightly so that Alec could press closer against him. Alec's mind was very quickly becoming foggy.

He felt Magnus' hands on the buckle of his belt, and pulled back slightly. Magnus stopped immediately, his pupils wide and his breathing heavy.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Alec shook his head. "No. Not at all."

Magnus smiled then—his genuine, heart-stopping smile, and Alec thought that it would probably be worth getting his heart trampled all over again just to have seen Magnus smile like that, one more time.

"Should we go inside?" He breathed, and Magnus nodded.

"Unless we want to risk shocking my neighbours..."

He tugged Alec's hand, and Alec followed, eagerly. The door shut behind them, leaving only Alec's black shirt behind them, lying quite forgotten in the hallway.

/

They never made it as far as the bedroom. Hours later, they sprawled on the—slightly magically enlarged—living room sofa, whispering and laughing, the events of that morning almost entirely forgotten—momentarily, at least. Magnus felt as though he had fallen into some sort of strange dream, which he could not understand, and did not want to wake up from. Alec looked beautiful. His pale skin reflected the moonlight streaming through the windows; his hair a wreck from where Magnus had run his fingers through it one too many times. There were marks all over his neck, and—unless Magnus was very much mistaken—he would be in a similar state. If he closed his eyes, and pretended with all his might, he could almost believe that they were together—not just now, not just for a moment, but _together_, together.

He didn't want to remember that that couldn't happen. _You make me unhappy._

After a while, Magnus summoned the duvet from his bedroom, and they lapsed into comfortable silence. It wasn't long before Alec's breathing slowed, and his arms slackened around Magnus' waist.

"I love you." Magnus whispered against his temple, and then—even quieter, "_Aku cinta kamu_."

Alec—of course—didn't answer, but Magnus felt slightly better for having said it, all the same. He wished in some capacity that he had asked Alec _why_ he had left, that morning—and, more importantly, why he had come back.

But it wasn't really important, was it? After all, Alec _had_ apologised. Maybe he had just needed some time to think.

Magnus closed his eyes, and willed himself to stop worrying. He drifted off to sleep with the resolution to ask in the morning—just for his own peace of mind, if nothing else.

Unfortunately, when he awoke in the morning, he did not get the chance, because when he awoke in the morning, Alec was gone.

Again.


End file.
